


Love and Attention

by icantreadsuddenly



Category: Black Sails, Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Edgeplay, F/M, Femdom, Hand Jobs, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26894821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantreadsuddenly/pseuds/icantreadsuddenly
Summary: Don't you think they're the same thing? Love and attention?
Relationships: Madi/John Silver
Kudos: 18





	1. Love and Attention

In Bristol.

* * *

After Flint, but before the inn, there is time. Madi’s time - much of it spent alone, saving and managing money and a husband’s house for the first time in her life. And Long John Silver’s time - spent here, and there, on land and at sea, in the past and more rarely in the present, with her.

When John comes home, he is exhausted, anxious, sunburnt. He gives Madi whatever his take from the journey has been. It doesn’t really matter what she does with it. He trusts her.

For the first few days he is back with her, he is always uneasy. He doesn’t know where to stand or put his hands, his gait on his crutch unsteady, unsure of how to speak to her or touch her. He tries to sleep and eat, spend his off-time like a normal person would, like he would before, but he is awkward, nauseous.

It happens every time, but never for as long as this. Madi watches and waits as days become weeks, as he struggles to recapture his old self - to have something funny to say, to tell her a tall tale about his time at sea, to make her laugh or roll her eyes at him - anything that feels normal, comfortable. But he can’t find that space, and they can both feel it.

* * *

Rain batters the roof, wind bending the trees outside, thunder coming in loud booms. John sits in their foyer, staring at the pages of a book. His eyes refuse to focus, his mind racing despite his attempts to distract himself.

He jumps at the gentle pressure of Madi’s hand on his shoulder.

“Madi.”

“Come with me.” She removes her hand, and disappears into their bedroom. He stands, and follows her to their bedroom.

She lights a candle, filling the room with just enough light so they can see one another. Madi stands, expectant, as John sits on the edge of their bed.

When she approaches him, takes his face between her soft, smooth hands, he leans into her, smells the clean linen of her dress.

She stands there for a time, stroking his hair, gently scratching at his scalp. He sighs. Nothing, not a single thing, on the deck of a ship smells beautiful, or clean, or sweet, but she does.

“Let me take care of you.” He doesn’t look at her, but nods against her stomach.

She takes a bandana from their wardrobe and ties it like a gag around his mouth. It’s not tight, but it feels good - secure.

“You remember our rules, yes?” He nods. He can’t smile with the bandana in his mouth, but his eyes crinkle around the edges. He doesn’t have to come up with something to say, this way - he can just listen, and feel.

She gestures for him to take off his shirt, leaving it on the bed beside them. She spreads oil from a small glass bottle onto her hand and kneels in front of him where he sits on the bed. John watches her gently, painfully slowly, free his cock from his pants. He’s half-hard already - purely from the anticipation of her. He reaches out, without thinking, and puts his hand over hers as he moves, trying to help, even in this.

She shakes her head, gently, and moves his hands so they’re at his sides.

“No hands, you know that.”

Her voice is stern, but her touch is gentle as she gently grasps his right hand with her left and places it back at his side - brushes her thumb back and forth along his rough, calloused knuckles while her other hand strokes him, firm and consistent.

“Let yourself be taken care of, John.” He nods, and closes his eyes, focusing on the sensation - her slick hand moving up, her thumb gliding expertly over the slit of his cock, and back down again. He settles into the comfort of the repetition, arousal building in the pit of his stomach, and as he cants his hips up just slightly into her grip, she pulls her hand away.

“Stop moving.” She rests her elbows on his thighs to keep his legs from moving. She waits for him to settle, his arousal just beginning to dissipate, then she begins again, thorough, gently fondling the underside of his balls as she strokes him firmly with her other hand. She's authoritative, not hesitant or shy in the least in the way she touches him. He flushes, his face red, overwhelmed by the attention she pays to his body, her eyes on him.

She can read him so well - the way he squirms, the clench of the taut muscles of his abdomen, the way his toes strain against the wooden floor as he tries to move his hips to meet her hand. She knows he’s close, despite his valiant effort to stop himself from showing it - and she stops again, and looks at him, smiling. He's watching her - sharp blue eyes fixed on Madi's.

“You’re doing fine. You’re doing so well.” His breath hitches. Because that’s what he wants - he wants to be told, reminded he’s doing the right thing, that he’s good, that he’s doing well, that he’s still a person. He doesn’t get that at sea - not anymore.

A muffled sound from behind the bandana. At first it seems like a moan, but Madi realizes that he’s saying something, and she looks at him, questioning. Tears are beginning to form in the corner of his eyes. This challenge she gives him - to give himself over to her - has become more or less routine - but _this_ has never happened before.

“You want it off?” She asks. Her voice is so gentle, it makes him well up more, eyes spilling over with tears. He nods, and she lowers the blindfold from his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I want to kiss you. Please.” Her heart jumps in her chest at the quiet desperation of his request. She nods, smiling as she leans forward to kiss him. He holds back, trying to keep from overwhelming himself, from breaking their rules. But he can’t help himself, can’t help but react to the softness of her lips, the warmth of her tongue as he licks at the inside of his mouth. He grips the sheets to keep him from touching her, but God he wants to. He wants to touch the smooth skin of her face, her neck, her breasts. He’s so preoccupied by his thoughts, by the sensation, that he nearly jumps when he feels her hand on him again, and his hips thrust up before he can stop himself. She pulls her face away from his, and she looks at him in the eye. Almost a smile.

“Behave for me, John.” She stills her hand, but keeps it on him. He’s so painfully close to release that his knee starts to shake with the effort of not lifting himself up into her hand. He leans his head forward, resting his against her forehead.

“Madi, please.” He whispers against her hair. His eyes are still welling up, and it feels as though his chest is going to explode. 

“What do you want, John? Tell me.”

“Please, I want to fuck you.” His voice is barely a whisper.

She nods, leaning back, frees his thighs from under her elbows. She puts her hand on his chin, makes him look at her.

“Make me come, and then you may have me.” She tries to keep her voice steady, but the challenge is over, for the most part, and now it's her turn to be aroused by anticipation of him - of his authority, and his knowledge of her.

His strong arms lift her from around the waist from where she kneels on the floor. Madi almost laughs at the urgency of his movements. She always forgets how eager he can be - how well he holds himself back when she asks him to and how fully he springs to life when she allows him to.

He flips her over onto the bed, doesn’t bother to undress her, just hikes up the skirts of her dress, kissing her roughly as he presses his two middle fingers aside of her. It makes him smile to discover how wet she is, the way she moans when he scissors his fingers, curls them the way he knows she loves. He bites and kisses at her collarbone, unlacing the top of her dress just enough to free her breasts.

In another scenario, he would be inclined to draw this out, makes her come with his hands, with his mouth, before fucking her in earnest - but he’s desperate. He is unrelenting, laser-focused, pistons his fingers noisily in and out of her - God, the wet sound of it is obscene, almost enough to make him come in and of itself.

“John…” she gasps at how quickly he brings her over the edge, thighs shaking, body clenching around his fingers. John is good at this, at learning what people want, at people - pleasing, at serving and planning and taking other people’s scraps, but -

“Take what you want, John.” That part is harder. That part had to be taught. Madi’s not able to come down from her own orgasm before John is inside her, snapping his hips roughly against her. She winces at the friction, despite the preparation, despite her own roughness, still sensitive from her own orgasm. She holds him close, arms around his neck, legs wrapped around his muscular back.

“I won’t last, I’m sorry.” His breathing is heavy against her eat. She smiles, kisses his forehead, and runs her thumb against his cheek.

“Come, John. It’s alright. You did so well. You were so good for me.”

He does come, shaking, with a loud groan. He does, finally, cry. She lets him cry, lets him kiss her forehead and her hair and her cheeks, overwhelmed by the feeling of her, the smell of her, her warmth, her praise of him.

“Madi…” He buries his head in her shoulder. She’s overwhelmed too, by John, by his arms on either side of her head, by the tickle of his dark, curly hair on her chest. Both of them are sweating, too spent to move.

She says, before he can say more: “Don’t say you’re sorry again.” So he doesn’t, just holds her tightly, wrapping his arms around her waist. She smooths his hair away from his face, tucks it behind his ears, strokes his cheek with her thumb as his breathing slows.

He feels the warm embrace of sleep dragging him down, down, down and does not resist.

* * *

When he wakes, he has no sense of how much time has passed. The only light in the room is from the candle in the corner of their room, and the storm outside has calmed to a low rumble of rain against their roof.

Madi has changed into a nightgown, sits beside him reads a book, head tilted back against the headboard of their bed. He watches her in silence - looks at her profile, angelic in the dim light of the lamp in the room. He loves to watch her focus, when she thinks no one is watching.

“If every captain was as cruel as you…” Madi looks at him and laughs, caught off guard by his voice, his easy tone and sense of humor back, even just a bit. He smiles at her, dreamy. She loves his smile, when she gets to see it.

“Madi.”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.” For leaving, for continuing to leave, for taking so long to come back every single time, for requiring so much of her, for being so caught in the past.

“I am here, John. Despite everything. Go back to sleep.”

He smiles, rolling onto his side, nestles his face into the warmth of her hip, and does as she asks.


	2. In Another Scenario

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In another scenario, he would be inclined to draw this out, makes her come with his hands, with his mouth, before fucking her in earnest.

In another scenario, he would be inclined to draw this out, makes her come with his hands, with his mouth, before fucking her in earnest.

Silver and Madi have purchased a home in England, out on the bluffs, away from people and proper British society, but near the sea.

In Bristol, in the cold grayness of England, she has learned to maintain a house for herself. She is good at handling money, at negotiating on her husband’s behalf when he’s away, even, increasingly capable at cooking. But with some of the demands of domestic life - laundry, cleaning, maintaining the home’s linens and cookware, dusting and sweeping, the demands of domestic life - she struggles.

John is indifferent, oblivious, delighted just to have a fireplace and a warm bed to sleep in and a wife who has finally come to forgive him. Madi is grateful, as well - for her collection of books, for the chickens they keep that provide eggs for their breakfast for them every morning, for John, and his humor that brings bright, warm light to such a gray place.

But when Silver returns from sea and his clothing is torn from hard-won battles, and she struggles to darn his socks or remove the bloodstains from his shirts, she feels something else - frustrated, angry, _inadequate._ A more suitable English wife would know how to do these things, she thinks.

“Let me do it, Princess,” John says it all the time - and means it only lovingly - when he finds her small, soft hands untrained for some manner of housework.

John smiles, and takes her work into his own rough, hardened hands, mends his own socks, scrubs the blood and dirt from his old shirts. He doesn’t mind.

He doesn’t realize how much it bothers her.

* * *

In their bedroom, Madi hunches over the hem, mending the hem with a needle and thread. Silver sits nearby, reading in the old wooden chair, humming to himself some sea song.

Madi's hand slips in, pricks her finger, curses in frustration, and heads for the nearby basin of water to rinse her hand. Silver looks up at her, startled.

“Are you alright?” He closes his book and retrieves his crutch, and impossibly quickly, stands beside her at the basin.

“I’m unsuited for this type of life. My hands are just…” She starts to cry, and he’s surprised at how seriously she’s taking the task. "I know I am talented at so many things, I don't think being a wife is one of them."

“Madi! Madi, don’t worry about it. It’s fine! It doesn’t matter.”

“I can't take care of you.” He can tell she’s not listening to him, staring at her own reflection in the basin.

He removes his rings, washing his own hands in the basin. She watches, in confusion, as he takes her damp hands, dries them on his shirt. He kisses her palms, her fingertips. Madi watches him take her sore forefinger into his mouth.

“John - !” He winks at her, laughs, and she can feel the vibration of it on her hand, and it sends a shiver down her spine.

“Take a break with me?”

* * *

They sit, together, on the edge of their bed, Madi settled, legs crossed in front of John. Her finger has been neatly wrapped.

“Madi, you take such good care of me. You know that, don’t you?” He kisses her cheeks, and she feels how strong he is, how encompassing he can be as he surrounds her body with his own.

“Why don’t I take care of you, hm?” His hands wander, stroking her thighs.

“How many times can you come for me, Madi?” She can feel her heart quicken. 

“I don’t know…” He smiles at her sputtering response, kisses her chest. 

“Six?” He asks.

“I’ve never in my life…”

“Five?”

“Do not bargain with me, John Silver!” She laughs. “I don’t know if we have time for your plain, either way.” She tries to keep her voice even, playing at rationality, but she’s smiling.

“We have the whole day. Days, even. _Week_ s.” And John kisses her, soft and, tongue exploring her mouth, hand on her neck - guiding and gentle. She whines as he backs away from the kiss.

“Here…” He pulls her into his lap, turning her around so they’re facing the same way. He coaxes her legs open with one hand, hikes her skirt up to her waist with the other.

Madi closes her eyes and settles back against him, her head resting on John’s shoulder, neck bared.

"The house will turn to chaos in a week without my care." She mumbles, sighing.

"I don't mind." He licks his fingertips, and in gentle circles begins to rub at her clit, pressure almost light enough to tickle. It's infuriating, too much and yet not enough, and Madi wants something inside her.

"Your fingers, John. Please."

"Whatever you want, Princess," He says, kissing her forehead. He moves his other hand from where it grips her thigh and plunges two fingers into her, without stilling his other hand. She gasps, overwhelmed, surprised. The friction is lessened as she grows wetter and wetter, as he moves his fingers faster and faster, in sync with one another. Madi follows his motion with her hips, grinding her clit up against the heel of his hand.

He can feel that she's close, can feel her

“There we go…” John says as she comes around his fingers, thighs shaking, hips rising off of the bed to meet his hands.

Her head barely feels clear from her orgasm when he coaxes her to turn around. Faces close, she kisses him, hard. He smiles at her eagerness, bright blue eyes nearly twinkling.

“Don’t look so satisfied," she tells him, frowning.

“I’m more concerned with your satisfaction right now, I promise.”

John licks her wetness from his hand, a mischievous smile on his face, and she feels her own dull, aching arousal grow again in her stomach, her clit still throbbing and sensitive from her orgasm.

They undress, he. Madi still, after all this time, finds herself shy at times, being nude, body feeling especially exposed in the cold air of their room. But he wraps his arms around her again. He kisses and sucks at her neck, her nipples, which makes her jump, giggle in surprise. He kisses down her body to her stomach and thighs, stroking absentmindedly at her legs with his thumb.

She settles back, lying against the headboard as he shimmies down the bed, biting at the inside of her smooth, brown thigh, kissing her, closer and closer -

“John…” She warns, and he laughs against her, and the vibration is _good_ , the deepness of his voice low and warm. His middle two fingers are inside her, curling and twisting, painfully slowly, his thumb grazing over her clit just slightly.

She grumbles, frustrated, as he licks at her, the pressure not enough

“Do you want to come again?” And again, she's embarrassed to have to say it aloud.

“You know I do, please.” She holds his hair, trying not to pull, as he flattens his tongue against her. She grinds up against him, and the wet sound of his fingers and his mouth and their wetness is loud, debauched. That's what makes her come again, the sound of her own arousal, and she curls up into him, fingers tightly gripping his hair, her heels digging into his shoulder blades, every muscle in her body tensing up.

She comes down, breathing shakily, and realizes she has John in a vice between her thighs, releases him.

"I'm so sorry." He laughs, and sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I can think of far worse ways to suffocate." John kisses her and she tastes herself, warm and sour and sweet. They kiss, slow and thorough, until the taste is gone, dissipated in their mouths.

It's starting to hurt, the throbbing of her entire body, the exhaustion of her muscles after coming twice in such quick succession.

"I can't do that again..." She moans, her voice breathy and quiet. “Aren't you…” She reaches for his cock, hard and red against his stomach, but he gently takes her hand in his own, turns her around once again so they're both up on their knees. He's painfully hard himself, staving off his own orgasm, and Madi's hands are enough to send him over the edge if he doesn't stop her.

“You can give me one more, can’t you, Madi?” He grinds up against her backside and she groans but nods wordlessly as he buries his nose in her hair, breathing her in, as he entering her with a grunt. The end of his leg is growing sore from the pressure of holding up his body, and he puts his hand firmly in the small of her back to steady himself.

"Madi...fuck." He moves slowly at first, steadying his own breathing so he doesn't come just from the heat and tightness of her body - and God, he could, if he wanted to. But he intends to make her come one more time.

When he reaches around her to brush his fingers against her clit once again, Madi's arms start to tremble, and can't hold herself up any longer, her upper body hitting the bed, and him coming with her, trying not to crush her under the weight of his body atop hers. 

He picks up his pace, fucking her into the mattress, and it's so _much_. The weight of him on her back, his hand on her waist, his cock inside her - and she comes one more time, her moan stifled by the pillow.

That's all he wanted - for her to come apart under him, to feel his appreciation, his adoration of her, to convey the full force of his love of her. The relief of Madi's orgasm drives his own, and before he realizes it, he's coming inside of her with a loud groan, doubling over on top of her, wrapping his arms around her.

Madi feels like she's floating, overwhelmed by the light kisses he places on her shoulders, her neck. She can feel the thump of his heart against her back, the warm, tickling sensation of his cum on the inside of her thighs.

"How does a bath sound?" John asks, and Madi smiles.

* * *

Madi and Silver lie under their bedding, freshly bathed, their hair still damp, facing one another. Madi's soft hands rest on Silver's cheek, stroking absentmindedly at his beard. He twirls the end of one of her twists between his fingers.

"Thank you," Madi says. She smiles, and Silver's cheeks flush at the way she looks at him. He will never tire of being looked at with such tenderness.

"Thank _you,"_ He asks, smiling as well, the way he does, warmly, his eyes shining. It makes her heart jump in her chest.

"For what?"

“I have never in my life had someone try to cook for me, or mend my clothes for me, or endeavor to care of me the way you do. You could be the worst laundress on earth and it would make no difference to me. You could serve me nothing but gruel every day for the rest of my life and it would make no difference to me. That you would even try to unburden me in any way…” He struggles to find the words.

“You’re my wife, Madi. It’s an honor to come home to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway fuck england

**Author's Note:**

> Write the madi/silver edging fanfic you want to see in the world. If there are typos tell me because no one has read this except for me. More madi/silver to come, possibly.


End file.
